Tomorrow Will Be Kinder
by Darling Pretty
Summary: 1940. As bombs destroy Mary's precious London, they take something even more dear. Mary/Bert. -I do promise a happy ending, but you might want tissues.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, uh, here's another story. I have to warn you, it isn't my usual light, fluffy fare. I don't actually really know where this one came from... I'm going to blame it on the fact that I was listening to The Hunger Games soundtrack.**

**And, as always, I own nothing.**

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><p>She knows from the moment she wakes up that it won't be a good day. There's just a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that says so. But still she gets up and gets dressed.<p>

For the first time, the heavy gloom that had settled over the house seems to have broken. Mary smiles sadly, knowing her work is coming to an end.

"Mary Poppins!" Susan calls. "Look at what Mr. O'Mara brought for me!"

"My," Mary exclaims, trying to sound appropriately enthusiastic. "What a pretty doll. You have exquisite tastes, Mr. O'Mara."

"Well, I'll be honest," he blushes. "I had Mrs. Jenner's help on it."

Mary is glad to see Molly Jenner blush at the sound of her name. When Mary had arrived, the small family had been devastated by the loss of Mr. Jenner to the war. Now that the appropriate time for grieving has passed, Mary is glad to see that there's still hope for there to be a man around the house.

"Mr. O'Mara and I were thinking of taking Susan out today," Mrs. Jenner explains. "Take the day off, Mary Poppins, you've earned it."

Mary smiles and nods, knowing that it won't be a day off. Instead, she'll spend the day packing and will be gone by nightfall. "Thank you, ma'am."

The soon-to-be family gathers their coats and leave. Mary goes upstairs and packs her things. She smiles sadly at the tiny room and nods. Then she wraps her scarf around her neck, gathers her umbrella from its stand and closes the front door behind her with a quiet click.

"Going somewhere, Mary Poppins?"

The voice from behind her is carefully congenial. She sighs and turns around; she had hoped to avoid this confrontation. "Hello, Bert. Rather fine day, isn't it?"

"It ain't bad," he agrees. Then he becomes less confident. "You given any more thought to my question?"

She bites her lip. The question he's referring to wasn't so much a question as a proposal and she owes him a response. "I… I can't," she says sadly.

His response is drowned out. Suddenly the air is filled with the shrill, offensive noise of the air raid sirens. She bites her lip. Though she's long since gotten used to the sound, it signals that another piece of her precious London is about to be destroyed and she will never be used to that.

"I have to go," she exclaims and tries to leave. He nimbly blocks her way. "Bert, get to shelter this instant!" she orders.

"Not until you tell me why you won't marry me!" he insists.

"I can't have this argument right now," Mary snaps. "I won't."

Bert grabs at her arm. "Mary, don't leave like this," he begs.

"That's not your decision to make," she points out coldly. "It is mine and mine alone."

"Mary, just… stay," he pleads quietly. "Stay 'ere."

She shakes her head and swallows, knowing her next words are sure to hurt him. "And what on earth would I possibly have to stay for?"

He winces, but pushes on. "Stay for me. Stay with me."

She refuses to cry. "I can't do that, Bert. You know I can't. Don't ask me to do the impossible."

"It isn't impossible an' you know it, Mary Poppins," he sulks.

Her jaw clenches. "To deny others my help would be selfish," she explains, feeling her own anger rising to match his. "I won't do it."

He suddenly looks very tired. "I don't know 'ow much longer I can do this, Mary," he admits. "I don't know 'ow much longer my 'eart can take loving you when you keep leaving."

"It isn't my choice!" she nearly yells over the din of the sirens. "The wind has changed!"

"It is an' you know it!" he retorts. "You're makin' a choice t' leave. That's _you_, Mary. Don't pretend that th' wind makes you leave because we both know for a fact th' wind changes when you want it to."

She glares at him and picks up her carpetbag. "I'm leaving," she announces. "And you need to get to shelter," she directs.

"Mary, if you walk away right now, if you leave, I can't promise I'll be 'ere when you get back. I can't do it anymore."

She feels a cold, hard shell enclose her heart. "So be it," she retorts frostily. "I don't take well to threats, Herbert Alfred. You, of all people, should know that."

He just stares her down grimly, so she turns around and stalks away, the sirens drowning out anything he might call out to her.

She has gotten a fair distance away from him when she's suddenly surrounded by the deafening sound of an explosion. The concussion knocks her forward onto the ground and she throws out her hands to catch herself.

For a minute, she sits completely stunned. Then she feels something wet working its way down her forehead. Slowly, she reaches up to above her right eyebrow. Her fingers come away bloody. She stares at her own blood in amazement before her mind fills with only one thought—_Bert._

She picks herself up quickly, wincing at the cuts all over her body, and turns back towards the direction she came from. Several nearby houses are leveled. Her mind becomes one razor sharp mass of sheer panic and she runs back to where she left him, scrambling over rubble as she yells his name.

She feels sick to her stomach when she finds him. He'd been far nearer to the explosion than she. His face is bloodied, dirty, and sheet white. "Bert," she whispers.

"Mary," he coughs, trying to sit up and nearly passing out from pain. That's when she notices the large gash in his torso from shrapnel. Instantly she's down on her knees at his side, searching for any other serious injuries and trying to staunch the blood flowing from his wound.

"Don't," she warns him. "Don't sit up."

"Mary," he says again, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Y' came back."

She chokes back a sob. "Of course I did. Now don't you dare die on me, Herbert Alfred," she warns him. "Don't you dare."

He gives weak little grin and takes a shaky breath. "Well, I've always listened t' you before…"

Her traitorous mouth lets out a small whimper. "Oh, Bert, this is all my fault."

He shakes his head. "Don't… don't say that, Mary. You… you're not th' one dropping bombs…"

She lets out a cross between a sob and a laugh. "I may as well be!" She can see him fading. "Bert," she says urgently. "Bert, I need you to stay awake. Help is on the way, but you must stay awake."

"Mary," he says weakly. "I… I love you. Don't forget that."

"I know," she nods, tears washing away the grit on her face. "I know. Please stay awake. _Please_."

He's getting paler and colder by the second. She sobs harder. "Bert, _please_. Stay awake. Stay with me. I'll stay. I'll stay with you forever. Just stay with me. Promise me you'll stay. Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone."

It's a tremendous effort, but he reaches up to touch her cheek. "Y' look be-a-utiful," he says faintly. "Like th' day I met you."

She shakes her head. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to say your goodbyes," she insists.

"Jus'… jus' promise me y' won't stay sad for too long, Mary."

It's a miracle she can even get words out at all, she's crying so hard. "Bert, I… Bert, don't…" Finally she just leans forward and presses her lips softly to his. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you so much."

He swallows and nods with a faint trace of a smile on his face. "That's what I like t' 'ear."

"You'll hear it more," she promises, "if you only stay with me. Please, Bert. _Please_."

That's the last bit she gets out before dissolving into unintelligible sobs.

0ooo0

There's a gentle knock on the door. "Mary, my dear," Uncle Albert says gently, pushing the door open. "I've brought some tea. Would you like some?"

She doesn't even look away from the wall, just shakes her head.

"Perhaps you should lie down, my dear. Have you slept at all?"

No response.

Uncle Albert walks over and tugs her out of her chair and deposits her on the bed. "You just lie down and rest, Mary Poppins. Everything will seem brighter with some sleep."

She doesn't respond but she lies down just to appease him. He looks satisfied and leaves the room.

She's exhausted. She hasn't slept in days. Every time she closes her eyes, she's screaming his name and her hands are covered in his blood. She can't go back there.

She can hear people whispering worriedly outside the room, no doubt trying to figure out how to bring her back to her normal self.

That self is gone. Dead and buried with all the victims of that bombing.

She must fall asleep at some point because she's groggy when she hears Uncle Albert come in and announce, "Alright, up and at 'em, my dear!"

She blinks in confusion.

"Come along, Mary Poppins, we have places to be!"

She frowns. "Where do we have to be?" she asks, her voice creaking because it hasn't been used in so long.

"You'll see," Uncle Albert says. "For now, just get dressed."

0ooo0

There's a dreadful sort of heavy anticipation knotted up in Mary's stomach as she hesitates in the doorway. She draws in a deep, shaky breath and pushes it open. Immediately, tears form behind her eyes.

There is one bed in the small room. Bert lies in it, hooked up to several machines.

She crosses to the bed and sits in a conveniently placed chair. Gingerly, she takes his hand in hers, wishing fervently that he'd squeeze back or open his eyes. Anything to let her know he is still there. But he just lies there, still as ever.

After a minute or two, she clears her throat. "Bert, I… you have to wake up," she begs. "You simply must. I… I don't know how to be without you and I don't think if I can figure it out."

She waits breathlessly to see if he'll stir, but he doesn't.

"Please," she whispers, bringing his hand to her lips. "Come back."

He had to have surgery to repair the damage caused by the explosion. It went off without a hitch, but a serious head wound has left him in a coma. No amount of her magic can fix it, though if it could, she gladly would use it, no matter the consequences. But this is a fight he has to win for himself. She's never felt so entirely helpless in her entire life.

He doesn't wake up.

At some point, she must fall asleep again, resting her head on the bed next to his hand, because when she wakes up, it's getting dark. Visiting hours are long since over but apparently no one had the heart to separate the two of them. Her hand is asleep from holding his while she slept. As she shakes it out, she blinks groggily. Even sleeping in a terribly uncomfortable position, not even lying down all the way, but sleeping next to him, that was the best sleep she's gotten since the explosion.

"Evening, Mrs. Alfred," a nurse says cheerfully as she enters the room. "He's looking well, don't you think?"

Mary ignores the Mrs. Alfred comment—after all, it's a natural assumption to make given how late she's at the hospital and that she was just sleeping by his bed. She smiles carefully and studies Bert with a critical eye. "He does," she agrees.

The nurse smiles as she bustles around the room. "Don't give up hope, Mrs. Alfred. He doesn't have a fever and his stitches are healing nicely. We've had people recover from far worse. _When _he wakes up," she says, placing special emphasis on the when, "he'll be just fine."

Mary smiles again, but she knows it looks forced. The nurse returns the smile, pats Bert's hand, and leaves.

She settles into the seat. Her lips curve upwards into a faint smile when she sees that someone, probably Uncle Albert, had brought her carpetbag and set it by her chair. She leans down and pulls out knitting needles and yarn. Now seems as good a time as any to start work on a scarf she had promised Bert months ago.

Her mind drifts with the mundane task. How different her life was when she made a promise to make him a scarf.

_Her umbrella deposits her gently on the roof. She lands carefully on the ball of her right foot, careful to set her shoe down where her sensible heel won't get caught._

_His grin lights up his whole face. "Well, if it isn't Mary Poppins!" he exclaims in that irresistible Cockney accent of his._

_She smiles. "Hello, Bert." While her reply might be less obviously enthusiastic, her excitement is conveyed in the brightness of her smile and the breathlessness of her response. "It _is _good to see you again."_

"'_s been a long time," he comments carefully. They only became involved the last time she had visited London—she had finally given in to what she had known for years and allowed him to love her in the way he had always wanted to, allowed herself to lose sight of perfection for a bit and love him right back just as fervently. And then, as suddenly as it happened, she had panicked, the winds had shifted, and she was gone. Until now. Somewhere along the line, she realized that whatever fear she might have about letting him in, whatever she was afraid of, it wasn't worth a life without him._

"_It has," she agrees. Her keen eyes survey the scene, noting the snow that's been falling steadily for an hour now and his lack of warm clothing. "Herbert Alfred, where on earth is your scarf?" she demands to know._

"_Don't 'ave one," he shrugs._

_Her eyes widen in surprise. "You don't have a scarf?"_

"'_s not that cold," he says. "An' I don't exactly, uh, 'ave the money for one."_

_Mary sets down her umbrella and bag, reaches up, and unwinds her own scarf. She approaches him slowly, looping the long fabric around his neck. She pats his chest when she finds that her work is satisfactory. "There, that's better."_

"_Mary, no, I-" he tries to protest._

"_Keep it for now. I'll knit you a proper one when I get a moment," she promises._

"_You don't 'ave t' do that," he declines._

"_Yes, I do," she replies, reaching up and caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Isn't that what people do when they're in love?"_

_He beams. "So you love me?" he teases._

_It's the simplest question she's ever been asked and it has the simplest answer. "Yes."_

_Before he can respond, she grabs her scarf and pulls him to her, much preferring this method of communication._

Why couldn't that easy sort of love have been characteristic of their relationship? It had been at the beginning. But with the change of the season came a change in their relationship. She became restless, he became desperate to hold on to her. Suddenly, the stolen moments during outings or on her days off weren't enough for him. If she was honest, she'd admit that they weren't enough for her either, but she needed to keep him at arm's length if she was ever going to be able to do her job.

"_You 'ave t' go again?" he asks, watching her gather up her things._

"_Yes," she responds curtly._

"_You can't put it off anymore?"_

_He knows that she's not a slave to the wind as so many assume. He knows that she says when she goes and could put off leaving if she wanted to. He saw her do it plenty of times over the course of the winter._

"_No."_

_He nods and picks up her hat, running his finger along the brim. "An' what if I didn't want you t' go?"_

_She takes the hat from him. "Please, don't," she begs quietly as she fixes it to her head._

"_Mary, I-"_

"_Bert, I can't stay any longer. I'm sorry. I've already spent too much time away from work as it is." Her eyes beg him to understand, to not take this as a personal attack._

_He hands the carpetbag to her and opens the door to the outside for her. She smiles gently and nods, walking past him, just barely brushing against him as she does so. "I'll be back soon," she promises, even though she knows it's a pie crust promise and she has no way of knowing she'll keep it. "I love you, Bert."_

_She unfurls the umbrella. Polly squawks to life, no doubt to yell at her about denying her feelings, but she wraps her fingers around the beak to make sure no sound comes out. Her feet are only about two feet off the ground when a hand wraps around hers and stops her from rising any farther._

"_Bert!" she snaps. "What on earth-"_

"_Marry me!" he exclaims._

_She freezes, still floating in the air. "What?"_

"_Marry me, Mary Poppins," he repeats._

"_Bert, I…" she trails off. "I must be going."_

"_Mary."_

"_I can't have this conversation right now."_

"_If not now, Mary, when?"_

_She looks around wildly, her breathing erratic. It isn't fair of him to spring this on her like this! Especially not now. "I… I need to think about it, Bert," she says, begging for more time. "I'll… I'll let you know when I return. But I do love you."_

_She squeezes his hand, then wrenches out of his grasp and quickly rises out of his reach._

What if she had answered his question differently? Her life would be entirely different right now. They never would have been arguing, especially not outside, not with bombs falling. Bert would be fine. They'd probably be married by now. Maybe even… maybe even expecting a baby.

Her eyes well up with tears as she imagines a little boy with her eyes and his mischievous smile or a little girl with a bright blue bow in her dark hair. The way Bert would be constantly on the floor, rough-housing with them, while she would roll her eyes fondly and remind them all not to mess up their clothing.

She shakes off that daydream. She must be realistic about this entire ordeal. There is a very real chance that children may no longer be in her future. There is a very real chance that a wedding may no longer be in her future. There is a very real chance that _Bert _may no longer be in her future. She has to steel herself for that.

But then the most miraculous thing happens.

A twitch, a flutter of eyelashes, the contraction of muscles coming back to life.

"Bert?" she asks quietly, not daring to hope just quite yet.

His eyes open slowly.

"Bert!" she cries, throwing down her knitting needles. She runs to the door and calls down the hall for the doctor before returning to his side.

He frowns, looking understandably disoriented.

The doctor comes in and runs a barrage of tests to check everything that might have been endangered by his coma and injury. Mary is pleased to see that everything seems to be fine.

"Now, you might experience some memory lapses," the doctor explains. "Don't worry, that's to be expected. But it seems that you've been remarkably lucky, Mr. Alfred."

Mary has to scoff a little at that. Remarkably lucky? A remarkably lucky person wouldn't have been in a coma in the first place.

The doctor finishes up and walks out of the room, leaving Bert and Mary alone.

Mary finds her voice first. "Oh, Bert, I was so worried."

He stares at her for what seems like an eternity. She shifts uncomfortably. "I'm really sorry, miss," he eventually says, looking quite embarrassed. "But 'oo are you again? Y' look sort of familiar, but I can't place your face."

Mary's stomach drops and she studies his face, trying to see if he's playing some sort of sick joke. But there's no mirth in his eyes. "It's me, Bert. Mary Poppins."

She sees him mull over the name and her face, but nothing clicks. A sudden realization washes over her and almost makes her sick to her stomach.

Bert, _her _Bert, has absolutely no idea who she is.

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><p><strong>There is more, I promise! I just haven't written it yet...<strong>

**Please try not to hurt me!**

**-Juli-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews! And look, I have more for you! I don't think this story will be too long, maybe two or three more chapters...**

**Anyway, I own absolutely nothing, as always.**

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><p>Mary opens her mouth to speak and then closes it. She's terribly unsure of herself. How is she supposed to talk to the man she loves when she's a complete stranger to him?<p>

"I…" she starts but then gives in to her first instinct. "Excuse me," she says and rushes out of the room.

"Woah, woah!" Uncle Albert exclaims in his funny American way when she runs into him and nearly pushes him over. He grabs her arms both to steady himself and to stop her. "Slow down, slow down, my dear! Where's the fire?"

Mary takes a shaky breath to compose herself. "I'm fine, I assure you. Please release me."

Uncle Albert declines to do so and studies her face. "Sadness, fear, anger…" he mutters to himself. Then he frowns and says to her, "I'm seeing all of those things, but not one ounce of fine, Mary Poppins."

She gives him a tight-lipped smile. "It seems that Bert has forgotten nearly five decades of friendship, that's all. But I _am _fine."

Uncle Albert spends about one millisecond looking conflicted before wrapping her up in his arms. She stiffens—she's used to physical contact from her charges and Bert, of course, but never with anyone else. "Oh, my dear," he comforts her, tears rolling freely down his face. "Oh, my poor dear."

Most people would find his outburst silly and rather self-centered, but Mary is happy to have something she can focus on. "There, there," she says, pulling out her handkerchief. "Calm yourself, Uncle Albert. Tears do no one any good."

"It's just… it's so _sad_!" he wails.

"Yes, it is rather unpleasant, isn't it?"

"But you love each other! Oh, it's just so sad. So sad."

Mary leads Uncle Albert to a nearby chair and sits him down. She appreciates the opportunity for something to do. "Just sit here. I'll see if I can't find you a nice cup of tea."

When she returns with the promised beverage, he's calmed down. "Oh my, I do apologize," he says.

"Nonsense," she waves away his apology as she hands him the cup. "Now drink. But do so carefully, it's rather hot."

Uncle Albert sips his tea and Mary keeps him company, trying her best not to think. Finally, he places his cup down and stands. "I suppose I should go see him. Are you going to come with me?"

"Oh no, I don't know that it's a good idea," she demurs.

"Mary Poppins, this isn't like you at all!" Uncle Albert insists. "You must come with me! I insist."

She sighs. "Very well then. Come along."

The pair returns to Bert's hospital room. Uncle Albert pushes through the door without fear, but Mary hesitates in the doorway. The nurse from earlier is bustling about the room, but Uncle Albert ignores her and heads straight for the bed.

"Uncle Albert!" Bert exclaims happily. "Good t' see you."

Mary tries not to make any noise to express her anguish but she feels her fists tighten and her jaw clench. He remembers Uncle Albert, but not her?

"Bert, m'boy, I'm just so glad to see you awake!" Albert exclaims.

"Can't say I'm complainin' about it!" Bert responds. He looks up and sees Mary in the door. He smiles shyly. "'ello again, miss."

The nurse frowns. "Mr. Alfred, did you just call her miss?"

"Er… yes?"

"Mr. Alfred, don't you remember your wife?"

You could hear a pin drop in that room. Mary whips her head to turn and look at the nurse making such a ridiculous comment. Uncle Albert tries to stifle giggles. But Bert… Bert looks as if his world has fallen apart in a single moment. That actually comforts Mary—her Bert, the sweet, caring, considerate man she fell in love with, is still there and horrified at the idea that he might have forgotten his wife.

"My… my wife?" he asks quietly.

"Don't be silly," Mary speaks up, trying to keep her voice strong. She turns to the nurse. "We aren't married."

The nurse has the good sense to blush. "Oh, I… I'm so sorry. I just assumed… when you were here… I'm sorry."

She rushes out of the room. Mary thinks about running after her to apologize, but Bert's voice stops her. "So we're _not_…"

"No, no, m'boy," Uncle Albert says. "But you've been in love with her as far as anybody can remember!"

"Uncle Albert!" she chides.

"Is that… is that true?" Bert asks her.

For once in her life, Mary Poppins finds herself without a quick response. "I… well…" she blushes. "I suppose that it isn't _inaccurate_."

She finds herself uncomfortable under his gaze for the first time in memory. She knows he's working his hardest to try and remember her, but she can't deal with the emptiness in his eyes. "I'm rather parched," she croaks. "Would anyone else like something to drink?" When no one responds, she blindly pushes her way out of the room and rushes to find a deserted corner of the hospital. When she manages to find an empty room, she sits down and starts to cry softly. Just a few tears escape her eyes, no hysterical sobs. Even now, Mary Poppins will not make a scene. After a few minutes, she collects herself.

She can do this, she thinks. The trick is to just keep calm and keep moving. She walks back to Bert's room and is about to enter when she overhears Uncle Albert ask, "M'boy, you don't remember _anything_ about her?"

Bert is silent for a long time. Mary debates announcing her presence, but right before she does so, Bert speaks up. "I look at 'er," he admits, "an' I feel 'urt, but I don't know why. But that's all I know."

She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. Of course she knew that when she refused to marry him she had hurt him. That was unavoidable. But he had been so kind and so himself that she hadn't realized just how deeply the wound had run.

"Nonsense," Uncle Albert exclaims. "Mary Poppins would never do anything to hurt anybody! Especially not you, Bert. She loves you. Oh, you just have to remember her! You just have to."

Mary enters the room before Uncle Albert can go any further. "Uncle Albert, don't you think we might allow Bert some rest?" she suggests gently.

"Oh, yes, yes," Uncle Albert agrees.

"You'll come back though?" Bert speaks up, turning a lovely shade of crimson. "Be nice t'ave some company."

Mary meets his eyes, surprised. For one second, she feels as if this might all work out—even if he can't remember her, he still wants her to visit again. "Of course," she promises. "If that's what you'd like."

"I would. Thank you, Miss Poppins."

She nods and guides Uncle Albert out of the room.

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><p><p>

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**-Juli-**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am so sorry this has taken me so long! Life, as always, is hectic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any errors- I pretty much JUST finished writing it.**

**And again, nothing is mine.**

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><p>Mary returns the next day to Bert's hospital room. Sitting in the same chair she fell asleep in previously, now pulled back a respectable distance from the bed. Overnight she had slept horribly, consumed by the knowledge that he had completely forgotten everything about her except the pain she had caused him.<p>

"'ello, Miss Poppins," he says cheerily.

She does her best to smile back. "Hello."

"Miss, this may be too forward of me, but I do wish y' wouldn't look so miserable!"

"And I wish you'd stop calling me Miss!" she snaps, forgetting herself for a moment. She takes a breath and collects herself. "I'm sorry, that was indecorous of me."

"What would you prefer I call you?"

"Mary or Mary Poppins would suffice, I should think. Anything but miss."

"Alright then, I'll call you Mary Poppins. Now 'ow 'bout a real smile?"

It isn't nearly as difficult this time to summon up a smile and he nods in satisfaction. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She shakes her head and pulls out her knitting. "What're yeh makin'?" he asks.

"A scarf," she answers perfunctorily, focusing on the task at hand.

"Who for?"

"You, actually. I promised you one."

"Mary Poppins?" he asks quietly, sounding embarrassed.

"Yes?"

"I know we've met, but…"

"Yes?"

He sighs and runs a hand over his eyes and through his hair, looking tired and lost. "I can't remember any of it. Not one whit. An' y' don't seem like th' sort of person a man forgets about in an 'urry."

She swallows nervously, trying to decide exactly how to respond. "I… Well…"

She feels a rising sort of panic trying to choke her. She looks around wildly, trying to find a way out of this conversation, out of this entire nightmare.

"Mary?" he whispers, his voice hoarse.

She wets her lips and makes an executive decision. "I was eleven when your father came to work as a sort of jack-of-all-trades for my father, doing all the odd jobs around the house. You were fourteen. The first time I met you, you interrupted my music lesson. I wasn't entirely polite about it."

Bert thinks about this for a moment. "Did we become friends?"

"Oh, no, not by a long shot," she laughs. "I was rather cold and I had been raised to think of any members of our household staff as inferior. In fact, I believe you even once went so far as to call me a—how did you so charmingly put it—a self-centered, snot-nosed brat. Not to my face, of course. You waited until you were downstairs with the other servants. I only heard about it several months later from the kitchen maid."

"So, 'ow did we ever…"

"Your father took ill. I was nearly fifteen at the time, you were barely seventeen. My governess had trained as a nurse and I was allowed to assist her. Every day we'd come to your cottage. I'd sit with you while Miss Lawrence was with your father. I don't know what possessed you the first time you spoke to me, but we began a contest to pass the time."

"A contest?"

"You'd try to make me laugh and I'd try my hardest not to. You'd usually win. It was the first time I'd ever had a friend that my parents hadn't chosen for their social connections. Unfortunately, it all but came to an end when your father was cured. I was too old to be unsupervised with any boy, but especially one of… working class." To her credit, she looks thoroughly embarrassed about the statement.

"At the end of the year, once I was truly fifteen, I was sent away to finishing school." She leaves out the part where she was sent away because her magic made her parents nervous, unsure of his reaction to the news. That is a rejection she simply couldn't bear.

"So what 'appened?" he asks curiously.

Looking down shyly, she contemplates how to relay the next part of the story. It's so personal that she's never told anyone before. Taking a deep breath, she begins, "You found me in tears the night before I left. It was silly of me, but I was young. I'd never been away from home alone before and I was… nervous. Frightened really."

_"Miss Poppins?" he asks, frowning when he sees her curled up on the window seat._

_Hastily, she wipes away her tears. "Oh. Bert. It's you."_

_"What's th' matter?"_

_"Nothing, I assure you."_

_"Don't look like nothin' t' me."_

_His words send another flood of tears to her eyes. He sits down beside her and takes her hand in his. "There, there, Miss Poppins. It'll be alright. I promise."_

_"You can't promise me that," she snaps._

_"Yes, I can," he says seriously._

_"You're stubborn. You'll do just fine. You just stay true t' 'oo you are an' 'ow could anyone _not _fall in love wit' ya?"_

_She sighs and blows her hair out of her eyes, drawing her knees to her chest. "That's the problem! I don't _know _who I am! How can I when I've experienced so very little of life? How can I possibly know?"_

_"Oh, come now, Miss Poppins. You've done plenty! You're quite accomplished," he says awkwardly._

_"I've done nothing!" she denies vehemently. "I've seen nothing! I've never even been kissed!"_

_He looks taken aback by her admission. That's not the sort of thing Mary Poppins goes around advertising._

_"I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly. "I don't know where that came from. I must-"_

_She 's cut off when he cups her face in his hands carefully. Her breath starts to come faster as his eyes search hers. He wants to make one hundred percent positive that he isn't forcing himself on her. She stares back, unwilling to even blink. When she nods slightly, he slowly brings his lips to hers. Mary's eyes glide closed as she tries to catalogue every sensation—the soft pressure of his lips, the rough calluses on his fingers caressing her cheek, the smell of his soap, just everything about him._

_He pulls away and clears his throat. "There. Now you've been kissed, Mary. 'ave confidence."_

_It's the first time he's ever called her by simply her first name. She nods slowly, in a sort of trance. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Don't let 'em change you too much, Mary. Some of us don't think y' need finishin'."_

_He's gone before she can respond._

Mary doesn't want to meet his eyes after she's finished the story.

"I… I kissed you?" he stammers

She nods. "I went off to school and we never spoke of it again. You were always sure to be busy when I came home. I thought you were embarrassed for kissing a silly schoolgirl with a crush like that. I didn't want to get you in trouble. By the time I returned for good, your father had died and you had left. My father claimed he had given you glowing references, but I can't be sure of that."

"Then 'ow-"

"I became a nanny when it became clear that I was never going to marry, although I'll confess that it was what I had wanted all along. I nearly gave my mother a heart attack, but my family wasn't well off enough for me to sit idly and become a spinster."

"Why wouldn't someone want t' marry you?" he asks, sounding almost like his old self."

She smiles cryptically. "That's a story for another time, if you even want to hear it. Look at the time! I really must be going. I promised Uncle Albert I'd be home for dinner."

He watches as she gathers her things and buttons her coat, only speaking up when she's nearly out the door. "Mary Poppins?"

"Yes?"

"I want t' 'ear th' rest of th' story if you'll tell it."

She nods. "I'll return tomorrow."

"I'd like that," he grins. "I'd like that very much."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry this took me so long to get out. I'm in the middle of finals week right now, so I've been kind of crazy the past couple weeks. The good news is that I have a lot of the next chapter written. The bad news is that I refuse to let myself write any more until I'm through with all my finals. But I do hope you like this!**

**I own nothing!**

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><p>"Mary Poppins!" Bert exclaims, his eyes lighting up.<p>

She smiles, pulling up a chair. "Hello, Bert. How are you feeling?"

"Much better now," he admits. "Can 'ardly feel any pain anymore!"

"That's _wonderful_," she breathes. "I am so glad to hear it."

He studies her for a moment. "We were really close, weren't we?"

She stiffens, trying not to show how upset she is. "Yes, we were."

"Yesterday you said that I'd moved on by th' time you got 'ome from that finishin' school of yours. So 'ow did we ever meet back up again? I've been tryin' t' piece that together all night."

Mary smiles as she arranges her skirt. "I didn't see you again for nearly five years. I found myself quite busy, working for various families as a nanny and never had time to even contemplate searching for you. It wasn't until I was in London, staying with my Uncle Albert while on a semi-sabbatical…"

_"Mary, my dear, I have a few errands to run that simply cannot wait."_

_She looks up from her book and cocks her head, waiting for his inevitable request._

_"I forgot that I've hired someone to come and clean the chimneys before we need to use it. Will you let him in when he arrives?"_

_"Certainly," she agrees, returning her focus to the book in her hands. She doesn't look up again until the bell rings and reminds her of her obligation. Sighing, she marks her place and goes to the door, plastering a polite smile on her face. Taking a breath, she opens it and begins speaking without checking who is there. She really just wants to get back to her reading. "I'm afraid Mr. Wigg is out at the moment, but I can show you to the fireplace."_

_"Thank you, miss. I've been 'ere before though, so I can show m'self, if y' like. Y' look as if yeh were awful busy before I showed up."_

_Mary nearly jumps. The cockney accent is stronger than she remembers, but his voice is so familiar. She narrows her eyes as she tries to place him._

_"Miss?" he asks, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze._

_And that's when it hits her. "I apologize for my forwardness, but by any chance, did your father work for a Mr. James Poppins?"_

_"From th' time I weren't much more'n 13, miss, up until 'is death a few years ago, miss."_

_Maybe she just imagines it, but she swears that his eyes twinkle. "Bert?"She says his name slowly, rolling it carefully off her tongue._

_"Thought for a second there you weren't goin' t' remember me."_

_"Oh, Bert!" she exclaims and throws herself into his arms before she can remember herself. "I could never forget you!"_

_He chuckles, but his eyes are surprisingly serious. "You're not so forgettable yourself, Mary Poppins."_

_Suddenly she remembers that society frowns upon young, unmarried women embracing handsome men when they're alone in an empty house and quickly pulls away. "Excuse me," she coughs demurely._

_"Nonsense," he grins. "Nice t' see that finishin' school of yours didn't finish finishin' ya!"_

_She laughs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she recalls the conversation the night before she left for finishing school and the events that led up to it. "How have you been?" she inquires, trying to steer back to safer waters._

_"Oh, just fine. Certainly can't complain," he nods. "'ow's that nanny business of yours?"_

_"How did you know about that?"_

_"Oh, your Uncle Albert keeps me abreast of all things 'avin' t' do with Miss Mary Poppins."_

_"You've asked after me?" she asks, feeling oddly touched._

_"Well, sure I 'ave! I 'ave t' admit, I first took th' job with your uncle because 'e was _your _uncle."_

_"Oh," she says, effectively shocked. "Well, thank you."_

_"I should probably start on th' chimney," he mentions, gesturing over his shoulder."But I'd love if I could take you t' tea some time."_

_"I'm afraid I start at my latest post tomorrow," she replies apologetically, feeling far more disappointed than she has a right to. "But I take my days off on Tuesdays. Perhaps if you aren't busy…"_

_"I'll clear th' day," he announces immediately."_

_"Oh, don't do that! Please, if you're busy, we can find a time that is convenient for us both!"_

_"No, no," he insists. "I don't 'ave anythin' that can't be moved. I'll see you on Tuesday."_

_"Bert?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"It really is good to see you again."_

"So what 'appened?' Bert breathes, clearly engaged in her story.

"What do you think happened? We went to tea!"

"You know what I mean, Mary Poppins!"

Rolling her eyes, she answers, "We went to tea and tried to catch up on five years of history. We failed to even get through my years at finishing school, so we made a date for the next Tuesday. By the time we were caught up, our Tuesday teas had become a habit."

"I still 'ave a question though," he says. "I can't figure out why y' said yesterday that nobody would want t' marry ya! I mean… that is…"

Mary smiles cryptically as he stammers and tries to correct his mistake. "You see, I'm a bit… odd."

"Odd?"

Mary takes a deep breath. It's now or never. She just has to trust that he will accept her and her magic once again. After all, he's done it before and there's no reason he shouldn't again. "Perhaps you'd care for some water?" she inquires hospitably.

"Actually I am rather thirsty," he replies. She raises her hand and snaps. The pitcher and cup float to her waiting hand. Pouring him a glass, she hands it to him without making eye contact.

"Blimey!" he breathes.

"That's why," she explains quietly, studying her hands.

"Mary Poppins?" he whispers. She doesn't look up. "Mary? Mary, look'it me, please."

She raises her eyes to meet his, determined that no matter what, she'll remain calm. "Mary, if that's enough of a reason for a man not t' marry you, 'e wasn't good enough for you in th' first place!"

She blushes, a smile lighting her features. "Thank you, Bert."

He stares at her face. "I take it that was the right answer."

"It's practically the same one you gave me when you first found out."

He shakes his head, looking annoyed with himself. "I just can't figure out 'ow I could 'ave ever forgotten you."

Her mouth curves into a smile, but she looks incredibly sad. "I have a theory, though of course, I'm no doctor."

"I'd like t' 'ear it all th' same," he prods her gently.

She sighs, biting her lip. "You don't remember, but I hurt you terribly. We were fighting when you were injured. I think your brain took the opportunity to reset itself, in a way."

"We were fighting…" He furrows his brow, trying to work this new piece of information into the picture he's already formed of Mary. "What about?"

She looks down at her hands again, twisting a handkerchief through her fingers. "You had asked me to marry you, but I wasn't ready to give you an answer. You were tired of waiting for me."

"Oh," he says.

"I had reasons!" Mary jumps to defend herself. "They seemed decent at the time."

"Not anymore?"

She stiffens and looks up at him. He gazes back at her, his eyes so kind and earnest that she could almost believe that none of this had ever happened. "No," she whispers, shaking her head slowly. "In fact, they seem rather pathetic now."

Her gaze drops again, but he waits until she gathers the courage to look at him again and then gives her a cocky smile. "So you'd marry me now? Even though I'm still stuck in this bed for no telling 'ow long?"

"I'd marry you in a heartbeat," she manages to croak out, her throat choking up with tears.

"So why don't ya?" he asks, that same smug grin plastered on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**I really have to apologize for the delay in this story. I don't really have much of an excuse. This one goes out to durancedurance for an inspiring message. Sorry it's not better.**

**As always, I own nothing.**

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><p><em>"I'd marry you in a heartbeat," she manages to croak out, her throat choking up with tears.<em>

_"So why don't ya?" he asks, that same smug grin plastered on his face._

"Bert!" she exclaims, freezing up.

"I'm serious, Mary Poppins."

"Bert, you know _nothing _about me except what I've told you. Please don't mock me."

"'oo's mocking? I'm dead serious, Mary! So I may not know everythin' about you. That's gonna take time. But I know enough. I know I love you enough t' propose t' you once, and from everythin' you've said, t' wait for you t' answer me!"

"No, Bert, you know next to nothing about me! For all intents and purposes, you've only known me for three days! That's hardly a solid foundation to start a life together on! Please stop."

"Okay, now I'm just beginnin' t' think that maybe you just don't want to marry me at all!" he exclaims, but his eyes twinkle.

"Bert, that isn't it at all!" she cries, flabbergasted. "But you can hardly ask me to commit my life to a man who doesn't even remember falling in love with me! How can you possibly know me if you can't remember even that? You don't know me at all!"

She whirls around on the ball of her foot to storm out of the room. "Mary! Mary, wait!" he calls out, but she doesn't listen. When she's nearly to the door, he speaks out desperately. "Lark."

Mary stops, freezing in the doorway, resting a hand on the doorframe. "I beg your pardon?"

"Little Lark," he repeats. "That's what your father used t' call you."

She turns around slowly, her eyes wide.

"That's right, isn't it?" he asks. "He'd call you Lark an' ask you t' sing for 'im. You were twenty-four when 'e died an' you sang at 'is funeral. Only you got all choked up an' nearly didn't finish th' song."

"Bert?" she murmurs, confusion written all over her face.

"Mary, don't go," he begs. "I know I don't remember it all, but I'm startin' to! Really. Just please don't leave me."

"How did you know that?" she queries, straining to remember if she had mentioned her father's nickname for her.

He ignores her question, his gaze distant as he struggles to bring old memories out from behind the wall in his mind. "You were all dressed in black an' you looked so sad. I wanted nothin' so much as t' just 'old you in my arms an' make everything alright for you. An' when you sang, your voice shook an' it took everything I 'ad to not rush up an' 'old you. I was so scared I was never goin' t' see my Mary again, that you'd been broken. An' th' first time that you agreed t' go to th' rooftops with me after that, when I knew you were goin' t' be alright, that's when I knew I loved you."

She listens to his speech, tears glistening in her eyes. Her hands tremble as she tries to hold back sobs.

"I know I don't remember everything yet, Mary. But I know 'oo you are, an' I know I love you. These past few days, I've gotten t' fall in love with you all over again. Now, I don't know if I love you any more or less than I did before I got 'urt, but I know I love you with everything I've got. And then some. An' that's not something I'll ever forget."

"Bert…"

"I owe you an apology, Mary."

Mary frowns. "You most certainly do not owe me anything. What on earth for?"

"I do though. Here I am, focusing only on 'ow much I want t' marry you, but I've never once asked you if it's what you wanted. I just assumed you did, an' if what you say is true, I did it before the accident as well. An' for that, I owe you an apology because you deserve better'n that. I just want you t' be 'appy, Mary. That's all I want. I 'ope an' I pray that I'm th' one t' do that, but if I'm not, then I'm not an' I need t' accept it. But I love you an' I hope you love me."

"Oh, Bert!" she cries out, rushing to the bed and flinging herself into his arms, not caring one whit that she's breaking just about every rule of propriety there is. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her so that she collapses on top of him, kissing her until her lips are chapped and swollen. "I do love you," she whispers. "I love you so much that it frightens me."

There's a discreet cough from the doorway. Mary quickly jumps out of his lap and smooths her skirt, blushing when she sees the nurse who had mistaken them for a married couple.

"I'll just… I'll come back then, shall I?" the nurse says awkwardly.

"No, please," Mary insists. "I have some errands that simply can't wait. Please do your job."

She hurries out of the room, her face burning from being caught in such a compromising position.

"She's a lucky woman," Mary hears the nurse comment before she is out of earshot.

"Nah," Bert responds, his voice thoughtful and tender. Mary can almost feel his gaze still on her. "With all do respect, miss, I'm th' lucky one."

0ooo0

Uncle Albert looks up when the door opens. There's a curious look on his face as his niece enters, humming to herself. It's quite out of character for Mary Poppins, especially lately.

"Hello, Uncle Albert!" she greets him, wrapping her arms around his neck and going so far as to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Mary!" he exclaims, surprised and confused with this sudden shift in behavior. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I couldn't be finer if I tried," she sighs happily, removing her hat and placing it on the hat stand.

"Something good happen, my dear?" he asks slyly as he begins to catch up. "And how is Bert these days?"

"His doctor says that if he continues improving as he has been, he'll be home within a week," Mary answers, deliberately refusing to answer his real question.

"Mary Poppins," Uncle Albert scolds, "You _know _what I mean!"

At that moment, what little composure she has breaks and a beautiful, beaming grin lights up her face. "He loves me," she says simply.

"Bert? Well, I know _that_!" Albert exclaims. "_Everybody _knows that!"

"Yes, but now he does as well."

"You mean he's remembered! Why didn't you tell me sooner? Oh, this is wonderful!"

"Well, he hasn't remembered everything, but he'_s _starting to."

"Oh, Mary!" Albert is an excitable man on his best days, and this is a bit much for him. His eyes fill with tears and he pulls her into a hug. "I am so happy for you. Perhaps things can go back to normal now. And maybe even…"

The look on Mary's face says very clearly that if the word marriage makes an appearance in this conversation, there will be all sorts of consequences.

Uncle Albert gulps. "Maybe he can even come home. We'll have to get the spare room ready for when he does." Mary must look shocked at this proposition because he continues, "Well, we certainly can't have him spending those first few days out of the hospital alone! He'll stay here and that's settled. You can tell him tomorrow."

Uncle Albert drifts off and Mary finally gets a good dose of her own fast-talking medicine. But it hardly matters; Mary's thoughts are completely involved with the thought that in just a few days, Bert very well might be staying under the same roof as her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Not a whole lot happens here, but I hope you like it anyway. I'll probably bring this to a close in one more chapter or so.**

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><p>He's slowly re-mastering the art of walking and Mary can see the frustration mounting as she helps him into a wheelchair. He's never been so completely bound up in his body and she can tell that already it is beginning to wear on him. Bert has always been wonderfully self-reliant and now he's dependent. It doesn't matter that she's the one he is dependent on, he's still dependent. Mary completely understands.<p>

They get Bert to Albert's safely and Mary reads exhaustion written all over his face. Quickly she shows him to his new room and tells him to settle in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. He reaches out and touches her cheek lovingly.

"I do appreciate this, Mary, y'know that, right?"

"Of course I do," she responds. "Now please, get some rest."

He grins. "I think there might be one more thing before I do."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Oh? And what is that?"

Bert leans in a catches her lips with his. "I love you."

"And I you," she responds with a gentle smile. "Now get some rest!"

0ooo0

For the next few days, Mary devotes herself to making Bert comfortable. He can only walk short distances without getting tired, yet infuriatingly insists that he wants to dine in the dining room and not off a tray. He's not accustomed to this sort of sedentary lifestyle and Mary can see him becoming more and more frustrated with each passing day.

And yet for someone so devoted to his care, she is incredibly hesitant to be alone with him. Not because of anything he might do of course, but because of the unfamiliar feelings that come with seeing him now. There's the customary attraction, obviously, but it's colored by something new now, something darking and more desperate. Coming so close to losing him has changed the way she looks at him, reminded her of his inescapable transience and made her a little more aware of the undercurrent in her feelings. Bert is no longer a merely wanted presence. He's a necessity—her existence is dependent on him—and Mary, in a way, resents him for it. He's completely stolen her independence from her, yet she really has no desire to escape. And that terrifies her. _He _terrifies her.

She knocks carefully on the door to the study. "Come in!"

"Supper will be ready in about 20 minutes," Mary informs Bert as the door swings open. Her jaw nearly drops and her gaze flies to the ceiling when she realizes that he is currently sans shirt. "Oh! I- I'll just…"

He seems to realize the situation he's just put her in. "Oh! Mary, I'm sorry. I was just- I was tryin' t' change this blasted bandage." He gestures to the gauze wrapped tightly around his torso, then to the gauze around his shoulder. "I 'ad an easier time of this one, but I just can't twist enough-"

"Let me help you," demands Mary, a switch in her brain flipping as she crosses the room and begins the arducous process of changing his bandage. "Really, Bert, you might have injured yourself!"

"Seems t' be th' only way I can get your attention these days," he grumbles.

"Bert! That isn't true!"

"Oh? So 'ow is it that th' only chance I ever get t' talk t' you or even _see _you is when you're taking care of me? Believe it or not, Mary, there actually is more t' me than th' parts that got 'urt!"

"I've been busy."

"_No_, you've been avoiding me," he insists. "An' if we're t' be married, y' can't just do that, Mary! I love ya for better or worse an' I always will, but you're goin' t' drive me absolutely mad with this!" He grabs her hand, effectively stopping her from doing any more to help with his bandage. She's surprised, but looks up at him. His eyes soften with his voice. "I love you, Mary. An' I know you'll think it's foolish, but I need t' see ya, t' know you're 'appy. An' I know you're not given t' sentiment, but I am an' I love you an' I think you love me, so please just 'umor me."

Mary pulls her hand from his and finishes wrapping his new bandage. Her fingers begin to traces the defined muscles of his back until he turns to face her, their faces suddenly centimeters apart. "I _do _love you, Bert," she admits quietly. "I just… I'm unsure _how_."

"So we'll figure it out. Together," he comforts her with a smile. "An now, I'd really like t' kiss ya if ya don't mind!"

She nods slightly and he presses his lips carefully to hers in a languidly soft kiss. Mary can feel exactly how he feels about her, not just the love but the hurt that she's inflicted, and she feels awful.

"I'm so sorry, Bert," she whispers, pulling away as her throat begins to close up.

He reaches up to gently caress her cheek. "It's fine, love. We'll be fine. Now, will you come back 'ere? I'm not through kissin' ya!"

Mary laughs and leans forward, surrendering herself to his kiss, allowing him to kiss her as apparently been dying to do. The kiss is searching and hungry and Mary wants more. Tentatively, she lies back on the bed tugs him so he's on top of her.

He pulls away hesitantly as if he's afraid they might be going too far. "Mary-"

"I thought you said you weren't done kissing me," she cuts him off. It's all the encouragement he needs and she pulls his lips to hers again.

"Dinner is- oh!" Uncle Albert exclaims as he appears in the doorway. "Save it for the honeymoon, you two!"

Bert and Mary spring apart, Mary's cheeks burning furiously. "Of course. I apologize, Uncle Albert."

He just laughs, reminds them of dinner, and walks out of the room muttering something about young love.

Mary is mortified but Bert is having trouble keeping a smile off his face. "So… there's definitely goin' t' be a wedding?" he asks.

"Play your cards right," Mary responds coolly, quirking an eyebrow. There's a gleam in her eyes that more than answer his question though. "You may want to wipe your face," she says, offering her handkerchief. "Lipstick."

With a slightly embarrassed cough, she goes to the dining room. Bert wipes his lips and follows, with what can only be described as a beaming grin on his face.


End file.
